


someone who loves you

by RowboatCop



Series: There's Not Enough Cosplay in Your Life [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (i don't make the rules they just are), :P, Anal Fingering, Cosplay, Cunnilingus, Exploratory Genderqueer Coulson, F/M, Light Dom/sub, because daisy/coulson are better than han/leia, but Coulson wanted to be Leia so I worked through it, i had a mental block about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 01:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: Not ten minutes ago, he’d stood in front of the tiny sink in the common bathroom, running his fingernail under his bottom lip in an attempt to make it perfect, thinking about Daisy’s promise to mess it up later. If he’s honest, he’s thought of little else tonight than Daisy on top of him, Daisy kissing him roughly, Daisy with his lipstick smeared across her lips, down to her chin.





	someone who loves you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



They walk back to their bunk after the party, Daisy half-out of her costume — the wig had come loose and the holder for her blaster broke, both items abandoned somewhere in the common area, to be found and dealt with tomorrow. Coulson, though, has kept his whole costume intact, down to reapplying his lipstick several times over the night.

Not ten minutes ago, he’d stood in front of the tiny sink in the common bathroom, running his fingernail under his bottom lip in an attempt to make it perfect, thinking about Daisy’s promise to mess it up later. If he’s honest, he’s thought of little else tonight than Daisy on top of him, Daisy kissing him roughly, Daisy with _his_ lipstick smeared across her lips, down to her chin.

She trails behind him by a step as they make their way down the empty hallway to their door, and thinking about it again creates a burst of heat in his abdomen, down his legs. He slows each step and starts to exaggerate the movement, swaying his hips and loving everything about it — the swish of his skirt, the slip of nylon between his thighs, the clack of each heal.

He _knows_ she likes his ass, and he swears he can feel her watching, so when she reaches forward and pinches him, a sharp little thrill at the base of his left cheek, he grins to himself before turning a faux-shocked gasp back at her.

It’s actually surprising, though, the way her dark eyes are turned down on his ass in the dress, the way she’s looking at him with so much _lust_. As they’d planned the whole ensemble, Coulson had struggled a little with figuring out Daisy’s enthusiasm, with letting on his own enthusiasm, some combination of protecting her and protecting himself.

There haven’t been that many times in his life where he’s felt himself so exposed like this, and even fewer when he’s been met with the perfect reaction.

And with the whole team around them, it had been a joke — Coulson in his wig and white dress and nylons and lipstick, Daisy as his scruffy nerfherder — and he’d played it just fine. When it’s just Daisy watching him walk, though, it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore, and he loses track of characters or playing roles, and just enjoys it when she presses herself up against his back at their door, the fabric of the dress tangled between his legs.

Daisy’s fingers creep around his hips, rubbing into the hollow of his hipbones and then sliding down over his erection, trapped behind layers of lace and nylon. Coulson groans, a low sound and then something high pitched and almost begging in the back of his throat. He forces himself to breathe, to find some kind of control.

“Are you gonna mess up my lipstick now?”

“Yeah,” Daisy says, lays her mouth to the back of his neck and breathes slowly, like she’s taking him in. It feels most right to wait for her lead, so he does, keeping himself still at their door while he can feel her steady herself behind him.

It had worried him at first, when they had first started having sex and then first added some kink, that he could sense her nerves, sense the way she always takes a minute to relax into a moment. It doesn’t worry him so much anymore, instead builds the anticipation in his belly as she kisses him softly, just beneath the line of his wig.

“Coulson?” It’s a whole question, and he wonders for a minute if he’s supposed to correct her — if he’s supposed to be Leia. She’s not Han anymore, though, is obviously Daisy without a wig taking a soft breath against his neck, and he decides he’s pretty happy to just be himself tonight.

“Yeah?”

He can feel her smile into his neck, lips stretching and teeth pressing, and then she kisses him softly again before she reaches past him and opens the door, guides him inside with one hand on his back.

It’s dark inside, and he can’t really see her when she wraps her fingers around his neck,  exactly where her lips had been, and pulls his mouth down against hers.

He’s shocked for a moment at how hard she kisses him, how her mouth moves over his with almost bruising intensity, and then it dawns on him that she’s _really_ trying to mess up his lipstick. Coulson laughs into the kiss, as her lips drag down to his chin, and then stops laughing at the feel of her teeth closing softly around his lower lip, sending a hot thrill down his spine.

Coulson groans when she pulls back, and then flinches at sudden brightness — she’s turned on the lights.

“I want to see you,” she says by way of explanation, and he nods because _yes_ he wants to see her, too. Her mouth is smeared with red, and it’s better than he had imagined it, _unbelievably_ hot — Daisy debauched from _his_ lipstick.

She reaches forward and hooks her fingers into his belt, tugs him forward before unfastening it and tossing it aside. He groans when her fingers then run down his leg to find the high slit of the skirt, to trace up his thigh over the tights until she’s got her fingers hooked under the waistband.

“We should have gotten you thigh highs,” she says softly as her fingers curl into the elastic, brushing the soft skin under his belly button.

“Oh?” It comes out higher pitched than he’d meant it to, but her hands are on him and he’s thinking of himself in thigh-high hose.

“So you could leave them on,” she explains, tugging the elastic slightly down his hips, enough to feel out the skin below his belly button.

“Yeah,” he agrees, suddenly disappointed that he has to take them off if he wants Daisy to fuck him.

She laughs, or actually just smiles, but like she's very pleased with him.

“Next time.” A promise. He nods, unable to hold back a smile because there will be a next time, because next time will be somehow better.

As her fingers creep back under the waistband of his nylons, he shivers, and each brush of her fingernails leaves fire shooting through his veins.

She pauses with her fingers brushing the top of his panties, just under the tights, and seems to consider him for a long moment before she tugs the waistband back into place.

“Lie down on the bed,” she suggests, or maybe orders, her hand cupping him over the tights, pressing against his tightly constrained erection. “Keep everything on.”

He nods eagerly and scrambles backwards, laying himself out on the bed as he watches her strip, clothes dropped unceremoniously to the ground in her rush to get naked. And she can do a really hot strip tease when she wants to, but this is somehow sexier, her eagerness to undress and climb on top of him.

When she crawls up on the bed, up on top of him, Coulson’s hands help hurry her up his body, kissing her neck and breasts and stomach before she settles over him, thighs splayed over his face, pressing into each side of the wig that wraps around his ears.

“It feels different,” she tells him, voice quiet but lips smiling as she moves her thighs around his head, letting his wig tickle her.

He turns and lays his mouth against her inner thigh, feels a surge of satisfaction when there’s enough lipstick left on his lips to leave a deep red imprint there.

Daisy laughs and lowers herself down to his mouth, so his tongue makes contact with her clit and her whole body stiffens above him, and he slides his hands up her naked back to hold her steady.

There’s a moment of settling, of gentle movements from both of them, but quickly she starts moving, riding his face as much as he works his tongue up against her, her whole body moving with each rock of her hips. He loves it, loves this, when she lets herself go and his entire world is the smell and taste of her. The sound of his moans is louder than the quiet noises she makes as she gets close, as he can feel the beginning of her orgasm in the quiver of her thighs against his face and and hands.

“Phil,” she grunts his name as she gets close, and it makes him smile because they've talked about this, about how hard it’s been for her to call him something other than ‘Coulson.’ (He doesn’t mind ‘Coulson,’ not at all, but he still likes it when she remembers, like another layer of intimacy between them, another reminder of how things have changed.)

His pulse beats hard between his hips when she comes, like he can almost feel it, like he could almost follow, but he presses himself to the mattress and focuses on her, lapping softly against her until she stills and slumps down over him.

Daisy sighs and kind of _wiggles_ down until her head rests on his shoulder and her naked body is all pressed against him, against his white dress. He sort of wishes he had gone for the bikini, imagines that the teasing from the team would have been worth it if only so he could feel her skin on his right now.

“That was good,” she sighs just below his ear, and he grins too widely. Because he knew, of course he could tell it was good for her, but hearing her say it still makes his belly tingle.

“Do I get a reward?”

She laughs, and he loves this part too, the part where she’s naked and laughing. He’s probably heard her laugh more since they started sleeping together than he has in all the rest of the time he’s known her, and it feels like as much of a miracle, as much of a gift, as the sex part.

Instead of responding with words, she swings a leg over him and sits straddling his belly, all naked and slightly flushed, and he can’t help the impulse to slide his hands up her belly, to cup her breasts.

She doesn’t let him, though; instead circles her fingers around his wrists and pulls his arms over his head.

“Hold still, okay?”

He nods and curls his fingers around the mattress, clenches his fists harder at the sight of her smile, lips curved and still stained red from his lipstick.

Daisy nods and smooths her fingers around his face, settling the wig back in place before dragging them across his cheek to touch his mouth. He parts his lips obediently and shivers at the sensation of her fingertips tracing ticklish patterns on his bottom lip before slipping inside. Immediately, he sucks on her fingertip, circling it with his tongue until she pulls it back and brushes it over his lip again.

Her eyes dart up to his, and he can see the nerves there.

“You looked really pretty tonight.”

His whole body pulses for a moment with _lust_ , and he forces himself to swallow and breathe.

“Yeah?” It’s a struggle to keep his hands by his head, to keep himself from touching her.

“Yeah,” she says, takes a breath and looks a little more confident. “I thought everyone might be scandalized if I kissed you too much, though.”

“They’re not here, now,” he points out, and she nods before leaning in to kiss him again, surprisingly hard before her mouth slips down to his chin and his neck until she’s brushing her  lips over the fabric at the very top of his collarbone.

She drops kisses down his chest, over the white dress, tongue pressing to each nipple through the cotton. Coulson groans at the heat and then the slight pressure of her teeth on each nub.

He exhales hard as she moves further down, sliding his dress up as her lips press softly to his stomach, until the skirt is raised almost to his chest and her breath is coming hot and fast at the waistband of his panty hose, just at the top of his cock, where she stops. Coulson, though, keeps shuddering at every exhalation.

“Daisy?” She looks up at him, her top lip caught between her teeth, and he's worried for a moment that it's too much for her. Instead, though, she smiles at him, lip popping out from between her teeth, and runs her hands up his legs encased in silky nylon.

“You're really sexy in these,” she says, and then presses her mouth back to the head of his cock where it's trapped against his stomach under the tights and his white lace panties. He groans against the feeling of her tongue flickering over him, wet and hot even through two layers of fabric.

The feeling of the tights being tugged down his hips makes him shiver, and he can't help the way he pulses his hips up towards her as the tightness of the nylons disappears, leaving him in only the panties. She kisses him through the lace, soft lips over the head of his cock, near his balls and then down his bare thigh, following after the smooth slide of the tights down his legs. Once she pulls them all the way off, she leans in and presses a kiss to his instep, and the ticklish sensation makes him squirm.

“Daisy,” he moans her name, unable to keep his hips still, especially when she leans forward and begins dragging her mouth back up his legs, lips and teeth and tongue on his calves and his knees and his inner thighs.

“I think,” she pauses and presses her open mouth to his cock through the full coverage front of the panties, her fingers tickling down towards his ass, which is mostly exposed by the thong cut, “we could leave this on?”

He nods immediately, intoxicated enough by the feeling of the lace to ignore the awkwardness of the thong pulled to the side, especially once she trails a finger down and presses against him.

She moves quickly, pulling away and leaning up over him to reach the nightstand — when he raises his head, he can land his mouth on the top of her chest and then her neck — and then she kisses him once, fast and hard, before she slides back down between his legs.

Coulson exhales hard at the feel of her now-lubricated finger pressing against him, inside him, and he groans and opens — thighs and hips lifted and spread apart. She's careful and slow, moving her finger experimentally before adding a second, creating a stretch that makes him momentarily dizzy, eyes crossed with the pleasure of being filled up with her.

By the time she leans down and presses her lips to the head of his cock again, by the time he can feel her tongue tracing over him through the lace, he's already fighting to hold back his orgasm. But her tongue moves over him in tight little circles, like how _he'd_ go down on _her_ , and it's almost too much to handle. His blood pounds between his hips, threatening to end this before it's even begun.

Daisy grins up at him, like she can feel how close he is — she _can_ feel it, he knows, in the taut vibrations of his body. And then she takes pity on him, like she knows how much he wants this to last, and lifts her mouth off of him. With her fingers still curled inside of him, she crawls up his side and laps her tongue over his lower lip so that he opens into deep, slow kiss, his leg thrown over her waist.

His hands unlatch from the top of the mattress, as though by their own free will, and he grasps her naked body and pulls her against him, arching his back to deepen the kiss as much as he can.

He's not sure how long she kisses him, how long she kisses him while she slowly fucks him, all soft gentle lips and fingers, just that by the time she pulls back, he's panting and half delirious.

“Ready?” She presses the question into his lips, and he nods adamantly, flattens himself on the mattress.

This time, when her tongue lands over the head of his cock, he doesn't hold back the shudder, doesn't fight so hard to stop the pulsing he can already feel. He reaches down with his right hand and grabs her left, fingers laced together as he feels the first tiny pulse of her powers, the first vibration.

It's a quick unraveling. Daisy's fingers — her powers — slow and careful inside him, her tongue quick and firm against him. He's falling or maybe flying, aware of calling out her name, and then when he opens his eyes she's smiling down at him from where she's cuddled him to her chest.

“Hi,” she greets him, a soft smile and lipstick still smeared down to her chin. He knows he must look the same, and it feels just as good to know it, even without the same level of pulsing hormones in his system.

“Hi.” He feels languid, sleepy like he could just curl himself against her and sleep for ten hours. Still, he can't help the need to reassure himself. “Was this… Did you…?”

“Yeah,” she nods, looks maybe surprised at herself. “I did. Maybe, next time, we can stay in character?”

Daisy,  as a man or a woman, fucking him as a woman, yes, he likes that idea. He likes most any idea involving her, to be fair, but especially this.

“I think I'd like that,” he agrees. Especially with the thigh high stockings.

“Come on, your worshipfulness, we need to clean off,” she says as she rises from the bed and tugs him with her, watches his white dress fall back down his body, all swishy around his hips in a way that still feels sexy as hell.

Her right thumb rubs under his lower lip, comes back smeared in red, and he can't help but smile, can't help but kiss her again.

“I love you,” she murmurs there, and even though he knows, it feels so good to hear it, to hear Daisy's voice, to feel Daisy's breath telling him.

“I love you too,” he replies, even though that probably shouldn't be his line. But she smiles against him like hearing it feels as good to her it as it did to him.


End file.
